Meet Me When the World Ends
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Carol is alone with a baby and trying to start a new life. Daryl has just suffered a devastating blow. When they meet, will they be able to help each other when the world begins to die around them?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Meet Me When the World Ends

Chapter 1

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the glint of red and blue lights in her rear view mirror. Her hands trembled and gripped the steering wheel a little harder. She flinched and pulled herself together, relaxing a little as the cars spend on. She could see the beginnings of a traffic snarl up ahead, and she quickly reached to turn on the radio. Static. She realized she was at least 60 miles from home, which probably accounted for the fact that her regular station wasn't coming in. So, she scanned through the stations, each one coming up static.

With a frown, she turned the radio off and tried to relax in her seat. She tried to chalk it up to the car being old and the radio finally giving out, but the further she drove, the slower the traffic became, until she was just creeping along the interstate listening to the cacophony of horns honking and engines rattling.

She spotted more red and blue in her rear view mirror and quickly rolled up the windows as the sirens began to blare.

 _Please don't wake the baby. Please._

She peered over her shoulder to see Sophia sleeping soundly in her car seat with her favorite rattle still clutched in her chubby hand. Another wave of sirens. This time, three ambulances came whizzing past in one direction, followed by four more going another.

She grabbed for her cell phone, finding she'd gotten three messages in the hour since she'd taken a bathroom break and fed Sophia.

 _Where are you? Did you take the right exit past Senoia?_

 _Are you listening to the radio? Something's going on._

 _Carol, I'm taking Rick and Carl to the hospital. They've come down with something. God, I hope it's not what they're talking about on the news. Call me when you're close._

Carol felt her heart stop for a brief second, before she reached to turn the radio on again. She tried, to no avail, to pick up a station. When she turned it off again, she shot a quick message to Lori.

 _What's going on? I'm about two hours away, but I'm stuck in traffic. Lori, there are cops and ambulances everywhere._

Her phone beeped to inform her that the message could not be sent due to no service.

"Shit." She chewed her lip for a moment, eyeing the line of cars ahead of her. With a glance back at her sleeping baby and then back up to the line of ambulances making their way through the snarl up the road, she made a decision. She checked behind her before peeling out onto the shoulder and starting up to the next exit. It seemed pretty clear, save for a few cars that seemed to have the same idea.

Once she was clear of the interstate and safely off the exit, she made a stop at a travel station and pulled up under the bright fluorescent lighting. She checked her phone again. Still no service. With trembling hands, she pushed open the car door and got out, moving around to rummage through the back of her Jeep Cherokee. She grabbed one of the many bags she'd packed and found her lock box inside. She fidgeted with her keys, finding the small one that fit the box. She grabbed a twenty out of the stack of bills inside and locked it back up, shutting the Jeep up and pulling the car seat out, carrying it into the gas station, where the air conditioning chilled her to the bone.

"Excuse me, sir, is there a payphone here? My cell doesn't have any service."

"We ain't had a payphone here since 2011," the man behind the counter snorted. He was wearing what looked like a surgical mask over his mouth and nose. "But you'll be hard pressed to find anybody with a working cell phone. You best get what you need and get back out on the road. We're all out of cough medicine and face masks, but you might try on down the road a ways."

"What's going on?" Carol asked, keeping away from the clerk when she saw the stain of red seep through the mask when he coughed.

"Honey, I'd reckon it's the end of days. Or God's idea of a real sick joke." Sophia woke from her sleep and began to whine, and the man sighed. "Shit, just stay there, will ya? I might have another mask in the back. Ain't got one small enough for her, but at least you'll be safe." Carol felt her heart hammer in her chest, and she looked around the store, looking for any other shoppers, but the place looked like it had been looted. She'd honestly never seen a thing like it before.

When the man returned, he tossed her something wrapped in plastic from over the counter.

"Just take it and go," he offered. "Keep that little one safe."

"What is it?" Carol asked, shaking as she stood in the middle of the store.

"Nobody knows, but they sure as hell ain't findin' a cure. Just get outta here. Best advice I can give you is what I told my wife and kids. Go someplace where there ain't nobody else. Go on. Keep that girl safe." Carol nodded then, still visibly shaken as she left the store. She quickly strapped the car seat back in and made her way around to the back of the Jeep. She rummaged through a few more bags until she found one of Ed's old cigar boxes. She opened it up and pulled out the revolver she'd taken from the top shelf of their bedroom closet. She quickly loaded it, having watched Ed do so many times before. She'd never wanted to have to learn to use a gun, but she'd taught herself, quickly and quietly adding yet another skill to a set of many Ed never needed to know about.

She put the gun on the passenger's seat next to her and took off down the road, making a marked decision to stay away from the Interstate. She quickly found a country road and turned down it, breathing a sigh of relief while simultaneously feeling her stomach knotting up at how desolate and abandoned the road appeared to be.

Sophia began to fuss from the back seat, and Carol took a deep breath.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Everything's gonna be ok."

...

"What the hell's your problem?" Daryl asked, banging on Merle's door loudly. He was never one to cause a scene, but considering just about everybody in the neighborhood had up and left, he wasn't too worried about anybody hearing the ruckus. "Merle, open the fuckin' door."

"Just get outta here, baby brother," Merle growled. "Let me be."

"I got the truck loaded. We got food. We got ammo. All we gotta do is hit the road. Stop bein' a jackass."

"I ain't fuckin' goin'," Merle yelled. "Now get outta here, shithead." Daryl sighed heavily and kicked the door, wincing at the pain in his foot.

"I drove all the way across town to come pick up your sorry ass, now you get out here now, or I'm gonna kick the fuckin' door down," Daryl hollered. He wasn't a stranger to having to fight Merle over anything and everything ever fucking step of the way.

But just as he was about to kick the door in, he heard it unlock. He quickly grabbed the handle and yanked it open to find Merle already halfway across the room with his back to his brother.

"What the hell are you doin'? Ain't time for games, asshole. Get in the truck," Daryl panted.

"I ain't goin'," Merle barked, turning then to reveal the handkerchief in his hand, spotted with blood. "Whatever this shit is, I got it, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Mere, we gotta get you to the hospital."

"Yeah, 'cause they got a cure waitin' for us," Merle snorted. "You seen the hospital tonight? Yeah, I took a gander myself an hour ago. Trucks are drivin' off filled with bodies in sheets. You think goin' to the hospital's gonna help me? This hit like a fuckin' plague. They didn't know it was comin'. This is the end of days." He raised a bottle of whisky to his lips and took a long drink. He groaned as the liquid burned his throat, and he shook his head. "I'm dead, baby brother, and I sure as hell ain't gonna watch this shit happen to you. Get outta here. Don't come back."

"Merle…" Daryl felt his throat tighten, and he took a step forward.

"You got mud in your ears, boy? Did you hear a fuckin' word I said?" Merle brought his hand out from behind his back and brought it out to aim right at Daryl. "You want me to pull the trigger? It'd be a hell of a lot faster." Daryl froze in place, and he watched his older brother lean against the wall for support. "Just get outta here. I swore to myself when we buried mama and daddy that I wouldn't ever have to bury you, too. I broke enough promises in my life. Don't make me break this one." He coughed then, and his hand filled with blood. Daryl felt his stomach turn as Merle doubled over and coughed up a sticky, red fluid onto the floor.

"How…how can I help?" Daryl stuttered, digging his heels into the floor to keep from tearing up the carpet to get to his brother, the only person who'd ever been there for him in his whole miserable life.

"You can't. Told ya I'm dead. You get outta here. Let me clean up my own mess." Daryl felt the sting in his throat and in his eyes, but he knew better than to cry in front of Merle. He'd learned a long time ago that Dixon men weren't supposed to cry. If they cried, they got a beating. It was just the way it was, and despite the fact that his brother was saying goodbye, he wouldn't cry, because he knew that he was the only person in the world Merle cared about, and if he cried, Merle would lose it. If there was one last thing he could do for his older brother, it was to let him go the way he pleased. He was going to do it on his own terms, just like Merle Dixon always did.

The last thing Daryl Dixon heard as he drove away in his old pickup truck was the sound of a single gunshot piercing the cool evening air.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _"I can't," she whispered into the phone, sitting on the edge of the bed with Sophia spread out on a blanket, napping right next to her. "I can't do it."_

 _"The only thing stopping you is fear. Wait 'til he leaves for work. Pack your things, pack up Sophia's things. Get in the car and go. Just go. Just get here. We've got room. Sophia can room with Judy for a while. Rick's already got the guest room ready. Just get in the car and get here."_

 _"Lori," Carol whispered, "I don't know if I can do this. If he caught me…"_

 _"He'd kill you. But if you stay? He'll kill you. How many trips to the ER is it going to take to get you away from this guy?" Carol flinched. Lori was being Lori. Tough love. But she had a husband who'd never raise a hand to her. They might have a heated marriage filled with arguments, but they were certainly passionate about one another. Lori had no clue what it was like to be married to a man like Ed._

 _Carol put her hand to her throat, sliding her fingers over the sore muscles that she knew had to be bruised. She shrugged a little, rolling her neck forward until she felt it pop a little._

 _"He'll come after me."_

 _"Let him."_

 _"Sophia…"_

 _"Sophia's got you. She's gonna be just fine so long as she has her mama. Carol, honey, you've got to get out of there. It's not gonna get any better. You thought it'd get better after the baby, and look what happened."_

 _Carol felt the tears spill over, hot against her cheek as they rolled down her skin._

 _She'd met him just out of college, and he'd been kind and charming. It was only after their engagement he'd gotten possessive and physically aggressive, and he'd always chalked it up to being jealous of the way other men looked at her. They'd been together so long, and she hadn't seen it happening, but he'd gotten to her in such a way that she believed what he was doing was out of love. She'd always hated seeing that in movies, reading it in books, because she never would have seen that happening to herself. Only it had happened, and now she was stuck in a marriage where she feared her husband, because after giving birth to Sophia, she'd seen so much jealousy directed at a helpless baby from a man who was supposed to love and protect them both._

 _It had taken bringing a child into it to clear the fog and make her understand what Ed truly was. And for that, she wasn't sure she could ever fully forgive herself._

 _The first time he'd hit her, she'd sat in the middle of the hallway with her hand to her eye, sobbing into her hands while he'd sat there and explained to her why it was her fault and how she could avoid it next time._

 _Last night, he'd come home stone cold sober, pissed off at the world for something insignificant that had happened at work, and when supper wasn't on the table as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he'd flown into a rage. He'd heard the baby crying. That had pissed him off. He'd found Carol pouring Sophia a fresh bottle instead of serving his supper. That had been the last straw. He'd come up behind her, yanked her by the back of the neck and proceeded to back her up against the fridge with his hands squeezing around her neck until her face was red and her lips were almost white. And then he'd stopped, and he'd fixed himself a plate and sat down to eat._

 _And in the middle of the night, Carol had locked herself and the baby in the bathroom, and she'd called her best friend and told her everything. Now, here she was, twenty four hours later, and she was afraid to let her daughter out of her sight._

 _She could hear Ed fumbling around in the shower, getting ready for bed, because he had an early day tomorrow. And all she wanted was to take Sophia and run. But this had been her life for the past few years. She'd chosen a life with Ed Peletier. And somewhere along the way, she'd let herself believe that there was nothing else in the world for her outside of the walls of their home. She had a husband, for better or worse, and she had a daughter that meant the world to her. And that was that._

 _But tonight, something changed. Sophia had looked up at her with those big blue eyes, and she'd thought back to last night, when she'd been certain she was going to die, and all she could think of was that Sophia deserved better. What if something happened to her? All she would have was Ed. No. That wouldn't do. Not at all._

 _"Tomorrow," Carol whispered, closing her eyes as the phone shook in her hand. "I'll do it tomorrow."_

...

"It's ok, sweetheart," Carol murmured, sniffling as she cradled the baby and rocked her gently. She leaned back in the driver's seat, feeding Sophia and staring out the window as a fine sprinkling of rain coated the window. She'd parked along an old country road, and the only thing she could hear for miles were crickets and the occasional whinny from a farm horse.

Sophia grunted and pushed her chubby hands against the bottle, turning her face away to show she was full. Carol gave her a kiss on the forehead and got out of the car long enough to strap Sophia back into the car seat. The baby began to fuss as soon as she was strapped in.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know you hate the car seat. I'm so sorry, Sophia." She blinked back tears and locked the door before shutting it tight. She got back behind the wheel and turned on the overhead light. She grabbed the atlas from the glove compartment and opened it up, sighing as she tried to get a good idea of where she was. She knew she was about an hour and a half away from Atlanta, and if the Interstate's traffic was any indication of what she had to look forward to in the city, it was the last place she wanted to go.

Still, she felt the need to check on Lori and Rick and the kids, because they were the closest thing to family she had next to Sophia. She glanced back down at the atlas with a frown, recognizing a highway she'd passed about ten miles back. It would lead right up into Atlanta from the back way and actually get her closer to Rick and Lori's than the Interstate exit would. She chewed her lip for a moment, patting the pocket of her jacket for the mask the convenience store clerk had given her. She hated the idea of going into the city where people were sick and taking the baby along.

But they were going to need supplies. If this sickness, whatever it was, was really as widespread and rampant as she was led to believe, then there was going to be an urgent need to stock up on supplies. She'd already seen evidence of looting back at that gas station, and the thought made her blood run cold. She'd need formula, she'd need food, medicine, water. It felt like the end of the world. Hell, maybe it was.

She glanced back at the crying back in the back seat and sighed softly.

"It's alright, baby girl. We'll just drive as close as we can, and we'll see what we see. If we can't get through, we'll leave. We'll find a place. I'm going to keep you safe. I promise."

...

She could hear the cacophony of sirens and horns coming from the Interstate. She could even see the glow of headlights. But she was a good couple of miles away from the traffic snarl, which made her feel a little more secure. Minutes ago, she'd heard what sounded like automatic gunfire. She'd heard what sounded like something heavy falling or exploding. And she'd kept driving, driving away from it, because she knew that stopping wasn't an option.

Still, as she approached a dead stoplight, she crossed the intersection cautiously before pulling into the drive of a small grocery store. There were two police officers standing guard outside of the store, letting just a few people in at a time. It was then that she realized that the people coming and going were employees.

One officer approached the car wearing a surgical mask, and Carol quickly grabbed for hers, putting it over her face.

"Sir, I just need to get some formula for my baby. She's…she's just six months old." The officer peered into the back window before turning his attention back to Carol.

"She sick?" he asked.

"No, sir," Carol murmured, trembling as she reached into her pocket for some money. The officer gazed at the passenger's seat, obviously noticing the gun Carol had there. She made no move to reach for it, and he nodded his head.

"What else you need?"

"Um. Food. Diapers. Water." She cracked the window open and pushed out a few twenties. The officer shook his head.

"You see how it is out there? It's like that all over the damned country. Planes are falling out of the air. People are choking to death on their own blood and spit. Keep your money. It's useless." Carol let the bills fall from her hand, and they scattered over the pavement on the wind. "Do yourself a favor. Keep your door locked. Keep that handy." He nodded toward the gun. "You know how to use it?"

"I…I think so," Carol offered.

"Good. Because you're probably going to need it, however this plays out." The officer turned and spoke to one of the store employees before the man entered the store.

"Why are you doing this?" Carol asked quietly. "Why are you here and not out there on the road?"

"Out there? They're just fighting a losing battle. Here? We can do something good, something to help people while there's still people to help. My boy died this morning. My daughter just a few hours ago. My wife…well, she's in New York, and I haven't heard from her since yesterday. I'm helpless at home, but I can sure as hell do something here." The young man from the store came back out with a heavy box, and Carol unlocked the passenger's side door. She grabbed her gun and put it in her lap, while the officer placed the box on the seat. "It's not much. Take it and go. Shane. Hey, bring me one of those cans." The other officer nodded and reached into the back of a pickup, grabbing a red gas can. "Hope this helps."

"Thank you," Carol murmured, reaching out to shake the officer's hand. "This means…it's a lot." Gunshots rang out down the street, and the officer drew his gun.

"Go on. Get that baby outta here. Stay away from the cities. Most folks have evacuated the rural areas. That'd be your best bet." Carol nodded her thanks to the man and quickly backed out, driving away and flinching at the sound of gunfire.

"God, please get us through this. Please." She took a shaky breath, gripped the steering wheel and pushed her foot harder on the gas. As the sounds of gunfire faded into the distance, she felt the tears spill over once again. Atlanta was unrealistic at this point. She had to keep her head clear and get her daughter safe. She hoped, no, she _knew_ Lori would understand. Still, it didn't stop the weight of guilt from settling into her chest for a long slumber. "I'm sorry, Lori. I'm sorry."

...

Daryl sat up in the back of his pickup, peering out into the dark night, listening for the sounds of a predator approaching. He had his hunting bow poised in his arms. It had been a good long time since he and Merle had gone on one of their hunting trips, and his finger was itching to squeeze.

The sound of a stick cracking as the weight of something moved over it directed his attention toward the front of the truck. He stood then, grabbing for the flashlight ouf of his pack and shining it up toward the driver's side tire. The grass in the thicket was so tall it could barely even see the tire, but he could see the grass rustling as something moved along toward the back of the truck.

"The hell?" Daryl grumbled, aiming his crossbow, ready to shoot at an opossum or a snake or something like that, but the critter rushed off, disappearing into the darkness before he could get a clear shot. "Shit."

He sat back down in the truck, leaning back and stuffing his pack under his head for a pillow. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, grunting as he tried to erase the memory of hearing the gunshot that had take his brother's life.

He'd been on the road most of the day, seen what Merle was talking about, seen bodies piled in ditches, rural farmers digging holes to bury their dead. It was like something out of a movie, something he never could have imagined. Even in the nightmares he had as a kid, he'd never envisioned a world like this.

He thought of Merle, thought of the blood, thought of the last bit of control his brother had felt coming from the cold steel of a colt python.

And that was it. Over. Merle was dead. And Daryl knew he was next. The whole world was dying, and for some damned reason, he was out here trying to put off his own fate a little longer. He could do it. He could end it just like Merle did. But then came the doubt. The niggling wonder in the back of his mind. What if this wasn't it. What if this was the beginning? What if he wasn't sick yet for a reason? He couldn't even fathom the idea of his sorry ass being some important chosen that was supposed to save the world. Hell no. He was a Dixon. Dixons survived, but they sure didn't thrive. Dixons got pushed to the breaking point and got failed by the system. Dixons didn't have shit. Dixons didn't get shit. They just survived, slipping through the cracks and living like ghosts in a sea of people.

He grabbed for a bottle of water out of the cooler in the back of the truck. He took a long swig and put the cap back on, saving the rest for later.

Then, with a dry laugh, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. And then a thought crossed his mind.

If this was the way the world ended, he was gonna make damned sure he got a good spot to watch it burn.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sunrise brought a little bit of peace to Carol's mind. She could see better, and she had barely passed a half a dozen cars all night. She'd stuck to the back roads, veering off to the east instead of the north. She figured that if she avoided Atlanta, she could hide out for a while, until the danger was over, and then she could find Lori again. That was the hope. That's what she had to hold onto.

Sophia began to fuss around seven, and she pulled over to make her a bottle and eat a granola bar for herself. By the time Sophia was changed into a fresh diaper and strapped safely back into her car seat, Carol was itching to get back out on the road. She kept east, kept moving, kept clear of the busy highways and the Interstates, all the while feeling her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to swallow back the fear and keep it at bay.

By eight, Sophia was wailing in the back seat, and when Carol checked her, she found her to be a bit warm.

The first thought that crossed her mind was that Sophia was sick, that Sophia was like the others, and for a moment, fear paralyzed her. But then she remembered Sophia had been drooling a lot lately and had been fussy. It was then, when she took a moment to breathe, that she realized her baby was probably starting to teeth.

So she gently stuck her finger in the baby's mouth, feeling along her gums, and sure enough, she felt the top of a little tooth poking through on the bottom.

"Oh, Soph. Oh, sweetheart, I know. I know it hurts. Mommy's gonna find something to make you feel better, ok?" Carol quickly got out and checked the diaper bag, praying she hadn't forgotten it in her rush to pack up and run with Sophia. Sure enough, the infant pain relief drops were nowhere to be found. "Shit. Shit." She sighed and slapped her hand against the top of the car. "Ok. It's ok. We're gonna find something. Just be patient with mommy, ok? Here…" Carol grabbed a pacifier and put it in Sophia's mouth. "There. That's good for now? Hmm? Yeah. Mommy's good girl." Carol felt her heart ache as the baby's face grew redder and she fussed a little louder. But soon, she accepted the pacifier and strained to bite it for relief, and Carol hopped back behind the wheel. "Don't worry, Sophia. Mommy's gonna find something. I promise."

...

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

 _"Mama?"_

 _"Count to a hundred, baby," a voice whispered from the bedroom. "Cover your ears and count to a hundred."_ Bang. _"Stop! Will! Stop it!"_

 _"Bitch, you don't tell me what to do!"_

 _"Mama!"_

 _"It's ok, baby. It's ok. Cover your ears and count to a hundred!"_

 _Daryl Dixon closed his eyes tightly as he sat in the cramped closet with his hands over his ears. His lungs stung with each quick breath, and his eyes burned with tears. His face was hot, and his hands did little to muffle the sounds._

 _"One. Two. Three."_ Bang. _"Mama!"_

 _"Will, look at me! Look at me. Just calm down. He's just a boy. He didn't mean it."_

 _"Them damned boys are gonna learn some goddamned respect."_

 _"Will, leave him alone! You wanna break his other arm? You wanna put him in the hospital again?"_ Bang _._

 _"Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one." The closet door shook as something fell hard against it. Daryl pulled his arms around his legs, hugging his knees to his chest. He hid his face against his knees, curling up against the wall._

 _"Stop it, Will! Oh God, please, stop!" She was screaming now. It always came down to it. Her screaming. Him yelling. Swearing. Always putting his hands on her. "Stop!"_

 _"Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven." Fist against flesh had a distinct sound. It was a wet, heavy smacking sound that made Daryl's skin burn in memory of the beatings he'd taken. Last week, he'd gotten the belt, and his mama had had to dress his back with gauze to stop the bleeding._

 _He brought his hands to his ears again as the closet door rattled some more. He could hear his father grunting, his mother crying and struggling, the sounds of someone being dragged across the carpet._

 _"Stop! Will, no!"_

 _Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-seven._ Thud.

 _"Mama?" he panted, standing up and bringing his hand to the doorknob. He turned it, only to feel something stop it from turning further._

 _"Keep counting, baby," his mother wheezed._ Thud.

 _"He can't hide behind his mama forever," Will panted. Another hard smack._

 _Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six._

 _"Mama?"_

 _"Merle, go to your room!" she called._

 _"Get off her! Leave her alone!" Merle hollered._

 _"You want some, too, ya little bastard?" Daryl buried his face in his hands when he heard his mother scream and Merle cry out in pain. "You gonna learn today, boy. You raise yer voice to me, you raise yer hand, you're gonna be in a world of pain. You look at me when I'm talkin' to you. You hear me?!"_

 _"Will, leave him alone. You're gonna kill him!"_

 _"Bitch, you want me to black the other eye?!"_

Thud.

 _Daryl pulled himself deeper into the closet, putting clothes and boxes and shoes between himself and the door, finding one of his mother's sweaters, the one she wore last Christmas Eve when she'd held him in her lap and read_ The Night Before Christmas _. He pulled it into his lap, wrapped himself in it, closed his eyes, covered his ears. And he kept on counting._

 _Ninety-seven._ Thud. _Ninety-eight._ Thud. _Ninety-nine._ Thud.

...

One-hundred.

 _Thud. Bang._

Daryl woke with a start, groaning as the morning light broke through the treetops and shone right into his eyes.

 _Thud._ He held his breath, listening to the sound of something, no, someone, rummaging through the front of his truck. He turned slowly to his stomach, peering up to see someone wearing a hooded jacket rifling through the front seat of his car. He reached for his crossbow, clenching his jaw as he slid out of the back of the truck and came around the side, quickly noticing the Jeep Cherokee several feet with its blinkers on.

"Hands up, asshole." The figure froze, and he watched their shoulders hitch with a gasp. "Turn around and show your face, and maybe ya won't get an arrow in the ass." He watched the figure bring their hands up, raising them up over their head. "Said turn around!" The figure startled but slowly turned, and Daryl took a step back, crossbow poised in one hand as the figure faced him. The first thing he noticed was the piercing blue eyes that stared widely back at him from above a white surgical mask. The next thing he noticed were the dark auburn curls that spilled out the second she took her hood down.

"The hell you think you're doin'?" he asked, keeping his crossbow poised. "You sick?"

"Please," she whispered. "I just…I just needed…I was looking for…"

"Don't know what you think you need. Looks like you got plenty of shit packed away in that Jeep of yours."

"I didn't realize anyone was here. I just thought it was abandoned."

"Yeah, well, ya thought wrong." His voice was low. Dark. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Please. Don't hurt me. I just…I made a mistake." He could see the fear in her eyes, sense it in the quiver of her voice. He'd never once had someone look at him with that kind of fear before. In fact, he'd spent most of his life being the asshole baby brother of Merle Dixon, but he'd never even so much as raised his voice to a woman. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was follow in his father's footsteps, and now here he was holding a weapon to a woman who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Just let me go. Nobody has to get hurt."

"Get outta here," he growled, lowering his weapon. "Next time check 'fore you start snoopin' through shit that ain't yours." Carol stood there, frozen, and Daryl realized she was looking past him, looking back toward her car. "What're you waitin' on, lady? Get the hell outta here." Carol swallowed hard, and in a moment, she was starting off toward her car, hopping inside and peeling out onto the road, spraying up gravel in the wake of her tires.

Daryl quickly got into the truck, looking for any sign of what might've been stolen. Everything had been rummaged through, but nothing seemed to be missing. What she seemed to focus on most was the bag filled with medicines and painkillers. He'd have thought her to be a junkie, but she hadn't taken off with any of the goods. She seemed to be searching for something, and he didn't know if he should be more pissed about someone going through his shit or the fact that he'd damn near slept through it.

He got everything back in order, shut the door and walked over to take a piss behind a bush. Within minutes, he was on the road again, heading the same direction she'd gone in. He wasn't looking for her. Didn't want to find her. He wanted to be left alone.

But, damn it if he didn't spot that Jeep Cherokee about an hour later, pulled over on the side of the road with the lights blinking again.

"What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. He was going to keep on driving. He really was. He was going to keep going and leave the little thief in the dust. But then he saw her sitting on the guard rail with a squirming, crying infant in her arms, looking utterly defeated, and when their eyes met, he saw the fear spark in hers again. _Shit. Just keep goin'. Not yer damn problem._

He slowed to a stop. _Stupid. Gonna get yerself killed, you know that?_ He sat there for a moment, watching as her eyes flickered over toward the Jeep, like she was looking for something that was too far from her reach. The baby began to wail a little louder, and she turned her attention back to the infant, gazing up at him again moments later, more out of desperation than fear.

He stepped out of the truck and moved around to the side.

"Please don't," Carol choked out.

"Don't know what it is you think I'm gonna do, but you got the wrong idea, lady. You're the one that was tryin' to take my shit. I'm just a stranger stoppin' to help."

"Just go," she pleaded. "We're fine."

"Don't look fine." The baby cried louder, and Carol hoisted her up, patting her back as the baby wailed against her shoulder. Carol's shoulders slumped, and she sighed, biting her trembling lower lip, trying not to show her fear. Here was this guy, standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking somewhere between annoyed and concerned, and all she could think about was her fastest escape route. Tears stung her eyes, and she took a shuddering breath.

"I wasn't trying to steal your shit," she muttered. "I was stopping every few minutes, searching abandoned cars. My baby's teething. She's running a low grade fever. All I needed was something she could take."

"I ain't got none of that," he offered.

"Yeah, well, I realized that right before you came up behind me." She frowned. "Don't worry. I found some a few miles down the road."

"Then why's she cryin'?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe she's just as pissed off as I am," Carol suggested. A fire flashed in her eyes that he hadn't expected. "She's just tired of the car seat." Daryl glanced over at the Jeep, noticing the way the front passenger's side dipped a little low.

"You got a flat."

"Well, maybe she's pissed off about that, too." Daryl smirked. God help him, he liked this woman, even if she was full of piss and vinegar. Well, catching someone looting your shit and holding a weapon on them didn't exactly make for a good first impression either, he supposed.

"You got a spare?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied, holding the baby closer. "I'll take care of it."

"You know how to change it?" he asked.

"Of course," she lied. She'd asked Ed to show her numerous times, but he'd always just brushed her off and told her it was man's work and that they'd be on the roadside for an hour if she tried it herself.

He eyed her. He could up and leave and not look back. She wasn't his problem. This kid certainly wasn't either. But, she looked like she was at her breaking point, and the kid was hollering up a storm.

"You sick?" he asked. "That why you're wearing that mask?"

"What?" she asked. "No, I'm not sick. But for all I know, you could be. Anybody I come across could be."

"Well, I ain't sick," he offered. "Now, are you gonna let me change that tire for ya, or are good deeds dead like most of the rest of the world?" Carol eyed him for a moment, sizing him up, noting his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, how tense he was but how something in his eyes told her he wasn't dangerous. Still, she didn't exactly trust her own judgment since Ed. But, she did need her tire changed, and she certainly wasn't going to hand Sophia off to a stranger.

"There's another tire in the back."

"A donut?"

"No, a new tire. If you're going to fix something, fix it right the first time. A donut's like putting a bandage over a bullet wound anyway." Daryl snorted at that, and she wasn't sure if he was laughing or not. But, he dug the tire out of the back of the Jeep, grabbed the jack and got to work.

Carol kept her distance, walking back and forth with the baby until she had quieted herself to sleep. By the time Daryl got up, brushing his hands on his legs before double checking the tightness of the lug nuts, Carol was already strapping the baby into the car seat on the other side of the vehicle. She peered at Daryl through the open door for a moment, before she closed it up and moved around to the side, hands stuffed in her pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling anxiously.

"Thank you," she said softly. "It isn't everybody who would stop to help someone who just tried to rob them."

"Well, it ain't like you took anything," Daryl muttered. "You was just lookin' out for your kid. I get it." He cleared his throat. "You're good to go."

"Well, again…thank you," she said quietly. "Have you…have you seen it out there?"

"Some. Seen it close up with my brother. He shot himself yesterday."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'll give you the same advice someone gave me. Stay away from the cities. These roads are the best. Not many people." She moved to get into the driver's seat. "You probably saved both of our lives today." She nodded toward the baby in the back seat. "So take my advice and save yourself. Stay away from people. It's people that'll kill you. Nothing new there, right?" Daryl narrowed his eyes at her a little. "Thank you for your help." She chuckled. "I don't even know your name."

"Daryl," he muttered.

"Daryl," she said softly. "Thank you, Daryl. I'm Carol. Stay safe." With one last lingering look and a thankful nod, she drove off, leaving him in the dust once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Two months later

"Oh, come on," Carol grunted, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel. "Don't do this to me. Not today." She turned the key again and got nothing but a choked whir in response before it was silent. "Shit." She'd been holed up in a little farm house for two weeks, because a snow storm had moved in and blanketed the earth with about six inches of snow. Without people, there were no snow plows and no salt trucks, though it was obvious now that somebody had moved through with a plow, probably hitched to the front of a big truck. The road was clear for miles that she could tell, and she'd decided to try to get out and move on a ways to a new house with more supplies before another snow storm decided to come in.

But, she'd been riding on E for miles, and the Jeep had finally given up about ten miles on down the road.

Sophia babbled from the car seat in the back, chewing on her fingers and enjoying her two new teeth.

"It's ok, baby," Carol murmured. "Mama's gonna get us out of this." Carol sighed heavily and braced herself for the onslaught of stinging cold wind, and she pulled her mask up over her mouth, mostly just to protect herself from the elements considering she hadn't seen another human being since the day Daryl had changed her tire.

She'd stayed in the rural areas, keeping to herself, keeping Sophia warm and safe. She knew he was around, that he was keeping to the back roads. She didn't get the sense he was following her. For the month after he'd changed her tire, she might pass his truck parked along the road. Sometimes, she'd hear the now familiar rattle of his engine in the middle of the night and wake to see two glowing headlights speeding off into the distance.

He didn't bother her. He kept to himself, and she hadn't seen a hint of his truck since before the snow storm.

But she often found herself thinking about him, wondering if he was someplace warm and safe, wondering if the virus had found him, if he was lying dead somewhere. The thing was, the longer she was out on the road, the less she worried about Ed, about where he might be, about if he was still looking for her or if he was alive. She'd gotten out. She'd survived. Sophia was safe. Those were the important things. Wherever Ed was, whether he was dead or alive, he was no longer the monster that slept in her bed instead of hiding under it. He was no longer the chain wrapped around her ankles, dragging her under the tide. She was free, and as much as it terrified her what the world was coming to, Sophia was thriving and she didn't have to walk on eggshells anymore.

She winced as the cold air hit her face, and she stepped out into the snow, coming around to the back of the Jeep, grabbing the gas can from the back. She frowned at the sight before her. Supplies were low. She was down to a can and a half of formula. She had about three days' worth of food left and a case of water. The gas can was only a quarter full, giving her just enough fuel to get maybe a few miles down the road. She was sure she saw the top of a big grain silo in the distance. A farm might mean fuel to pull from farm equipment, or if she was lucky, already in cans and sitting in storage waiting to be used.

With a tired groan, she carried the gas can to the side of the Jeep and quickly emptied the rest of the gas into it. Just as she thought, the fuel was barely enough to move the indicator off of E.

Sophia was fussing by now, and when Carol went to start back down the road, the tires spun, and a sickening feeling washed over her. She was stuck.

"No. No. Shit. No, don't do this." She pushed her foot down harder on the gas, and the Jeep lurched but didn't move any further. At this rate, she was going to burn her fuel down before she got anywhere. She cut the engine again, reaching behind her to cover Sophia's car seat with a blanket to keep her warm. Sophia fussed louder.

"It's ok. Mama's gonna fix this." Out of habit, she grabbed her gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans. She got out and got back into the back of Jeep, grabbing a shovel and moving around, shoveling bits of snow away from each tire. "Stupid. I should have stayed put. This was stupid."

Her feet slipped against the icy road, and she held onto the side of the Jeep to keep her balance. She worked carefully, feeling the cold wind whipping right through her clothes as if she were standing there naked.

She was chilled to the bone, fingers stiffening from the cold as she continued to shovel. The snow was coming down in blankets now, and visibility was so low she could barely see the front of the car. She knew if they didn't move soon, they were going to be stuck.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. The longer she shoveled, the longer she stood out in the cold, the weaker she grew from exertion. She could hear Sophia crying louder now, and for the first time, she regretted sticking to the country roads, where houses were spaced miles apart and roads drifted with snow high enough to bury a car.

 _Fuck this_.

She tossed the shovel back into the Jeep and moved around the car, grabbing hold of the door handle. She was going to take her daughter, bundle her up and walk to the nearest house. If they stayed here in the middle of the road with no protection from the wind, they'd surely freeze to death. She had to do something and fast.

But as she yanked on the door, she found it was frozen shut. She groaned, bracing one hand against the side of the Jeep as she yanked with her other hand. She heard the crack of ice, and the door gave way, sending her stumbling back, feet slipping on the ice. She screamed as her feet came up from under her and the sky flew into her line of sight. She gasped, and then everything went black as the back of her head slammed down onto the icy road beneath her.

...

Daryl cursed as he kicked at the ice buildup in the wheel well of his truck. The fucking heater had gone out two days ago, and he was pretty sure his clothes were frozen to his skin. If he wasn't sweating from the layers he'd piled on, he was freezing from the lack of heat. He wasn't sure what was cold or what was hot anymore. He just felt like shit.

The snow was coming down hard, and as he trudged back to the side of the truck and hopped in the driver's seat, he turned his wipers on to keep the snow from collecting on his window.

He was hungry and cold and hadn't slept a wink the night before. He'd heard someone out there, plowing the roads. His truck had been parked along the wayside, completely covered in snow, which funnily enough, had kept the car warm enough inside that he hadn't frozen to death under his threadbare blanket. Still, he'd gone unnoticed, though he'd barely slept, feeling a little unnerved, wondering who this stranger was that was plowing the roads, wondering if Carol was somewhere ahead of or behind him, wondering if her and her baby were getting along ok, wondering if this stranger with the plow had discovered them. Maybe this stranger wasn't just a kind guy clearing the roads for any travelers that might be left. Maybe the guy was a psycho, plowing the roads to bide his time before he found his next victim.

The idea that he even cared had kept him up half the night. He knew she was around. She was on his radar only in the sense that he'd passed her car along the road when she'd hole up in some old house on a chilly night. Or he'd hear the baby crying if she was stopped not too far away. But he kept his distance, stayed out of it. They weren't his problem. He wasn't theirs. Though, it did make him feel a little relieved that neither of them had gotten sick yet, because maybe, just maybe, that meant the virus had burned out and everyone that was going to die was already dead. Maybe the danger was gone. But it was too soon to take any chances and venture off to the city.

He got the truck moving, at least, though the unpleasant grind of ice against his tires was enough to set his teeth on edge. He gripped the steering wheel as the road, slick from the fresh plow— _thanks for the help, asshole—_ sent his truck sliding at any hint of a bump or jostle.

He drove at a snail's pace for miles, and in that span of time a whole family of deer had crossed from one dead soybean field into a dead corn field, one stopping to curiously turn its nose up in curiosity in his direction before frolicking off to keep up with the others.

"Yeah, pal, if I weren't freezin' my balls off, you'd be breakfast."

He took the sharp curve, nearly sliding off into the ditch but managing to keep control and get the truck maneuvered over an unpleasant pothole. He could barely see anything ahead of him, even with turning his high beams on. It wasn't until he'd almost passed the Jeep that he caught sight of it and hit his brakes. Something was wrong. On either side of him was a dead or dying field of crops. There weren't any places to sleep close by. Snow was covering the hood and the window, at least two inches thick.

He pulled up in front of it, cursing the wind as he stepped out of his truck and moved around to the driver's side door. He rubbed his hand over the fogged glass, tapping with no response. Even though the wind was whipping past him, whistling through the air, he swore he heard a baby cry.

It was only when he came around to the side of the Jeep that he saw the door wide open and the car seat covered with a blanket. That was when he heard the weak cries. He pulled back the blanket to see the baby visibly shivering, her little lips pale from the cold.

"Hey, it's alright, kid," he murmured, covering her back up with the blanket. "Where's yer mama?" He looked around, seeing nothing in his line of sight. The snow was coming down too thick and heavy, covering up any tracks there might have been. "S'alright. I'm gonna get you outta here." She wasn't his problem. But she had to be somebody's, and if her mama wasn't there, who else was there to look after her?

His stomach tightened, and he felt a cold sense of dread fill him up when he thought about what had become of her. She couldn't have gotten far. The baby was cold, but she was still alive, still breathing alright. Whatever had happened couldn't have happened more than twenty or thirty minutes before.

"Ok, let's get you outta here." He unhooked the car seat's base and carried the whole thing, baby and all, back to the truck. He got it situated inside as best he could before coming around to grab supplies out of the back of the Jeep.

He made a wide circle around the Jeep, checking the fields for any sign of the baby's mother. But the snow was coming down too fast, and it wouldn't be long that he'd be stuck, too. He made a mental note to find the closest house and get the baby warm. When the snow stopped, he'd come back out and make a trip through the fields.

But just as he was moving to get back into the truck, he felt cold steel press against the back of his neck.

"Hands up, asshole." Her voice was shaky, weak, hoarse. He put his hands up, turning slowly to meet her gaze. Her bright, blue eyes widened in shock at the sight of him.

"The hell happened out here?"

"Ran…ran outta gas," she murmured, lowering her gun. "My baby…"

"She's fine. Cold, but she's ok. You…" It was then that he saw the trickle of blood at the side of her head. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she muttered, moving toward the Jeep. But as she took a third step, her knees gave out. Her eyes rolled up, and she started to go down. Daryl moved quickly, nearly falling himself as he rushed to keep her from hurting herself a second time. And when they both hit the ground, he kept her head from hitting the ice before gently laying her down and patting her cheek.

"Hey. Hey!" She was out. She was breathing, but she wasn't responding. "Shit." He lay there, panting for a moment, trying to get his shit together, trying not to panic. What the hell was he supposed to do with a baby and an injured woman to care for? He sure as hell couldn't leave them to themselves. They'd both die out in the cold. She wasn't in any shape to take care of herself let alone a baby.

He'd never had a hero complex. He'd stayed to himself, kept his head down, kept his nose out of other people's business, because in his experience, looking up, getting involved always ended up with him getting hurt in one way or the other. But here she was, lying in the snow beneath him, her skin pale and bruised from the fall, and her kid was crying in his truck, and all he could think was that there was a reason he'd been behind her on that road today. It wasn't on purpose. It wasn't deliberate. They just seemed to gravitate in the same direction, away from each other, toward each other, toward something all at the same time.

 _"God damn it_ ," he muttered under his breath, running his fingers through his hair as he felt the cold settling into his skin. "Alright, let's get you safe."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The first thing she felt when she began to drift back into consciousness was a tingling in her toes and fingers as the cold began to thaw from them. The second thing she felt was a sense of comfort, like she'd been wrapped in a cloud. The third thing she felt was a splitting ache all about her head that made her wince and moan in pain.

She heard feet shuffling followed by a distinct suckling sound that she attributed to her daughter's eating habits when she was especially hungry.

"Soph…Sophia?" she murmured, turning her head and wincing into a bright yellow light. She turned her face away, seeking comfort in the dimmer light to the other side. When she cracked one eye open, she could just make out the shape of a figure sitting there, head bowed in concentration, not prayer. "Where's my baby?" she managed weakly.

"Right here," the gruff voice offered. "She was hungry." He scooted his chair forward, and the vision of Daryl holding her daughter cleared up. He was looking down at the baby and holding her as awkwardly as he was holding the bottle, but the baby didn't seem to mind. "How old is she?"

"Eight months," Carol offered weakly, attempting to sit up. When the room began to spin, she gave up and lowered herself back to the pillow. "She's small, I know. Always has been. Even smaller now with times being what they are." She frowned. She felt guilt rise up as a lump in her throat. She'd had to stretch what formula she had to make it last, and that often came with sleepless nights, with Sophia crying until she wore herself out. She'd found a little mom and pop convenience store that still had baby food on the shelf, but they'd gone through that within days. It had been those sleepless nights that she'd spent cursing Ed Peletier for being the reasons he hadn't breastfed, for demanding Sophia eat from the bottle, because he didn't want any wife of his to ruin her body like that. _Asshole_. "She's ok?"

"She's good." Carol winced and glanced over at the window. It was dark, but she could see big flakes of white fluff collecting on the ledge. "How long was I out?"

"'Bout eight hours."

"Eight hours?!" Panic bubbled in her blood, and she started to sit up, this time managing to get upright.

"She's alright. She's ate three times. Diaper's changed."

"You…you changed her diaper?"

"She wasn't gonna change it herself, was she?" Carol couldn't help but smile a little at that before bringing her hand to her forehead and wincing.

"Well, thank you for that," she murmured. "I can take her now."

"You got a nasty hit to the head. You can barely sit up on yer own. 'Sides, whoever lived here had a rugrat of their own. There's a whole nursery in the next room. It's all blue and boy shit, but beggars can't be choosers."

"No, they can't," Carol murmured. "We have electricity?"

"Generator out back. Don't know how much juice it's got left. Lots of canned food in the pantry. I got it boxed up. Some for you and the kid, some for me."

"Thank you," Carol murmured softly. "My car?"

"Still back out on the road. Found some gas cans in the barn out back. We can use that. But it's probably gonna be best to get back toward a town, find some cars to pull gas from."

"You think it's safe?"

"You hear it at night, right? Nothin' but wind. No horns in the distance. Traffic's dead. People are too."

"We're not dead," she murmured quietly, scooting back and leaning her head against the wall. She watched him as he looked down at her daughter and then back up at her.

"You think they're all dead?" he asked.

"If we're ok, I think it's safe to assume others are, too." She chewed her lip for a moment. "It doesn't feel real. It still doesn't." In that moment, Sophia whined and pushed her bottle away, and Daryl looked down at her like he didn't quite know what to do with her next. He started patting her back, and Carol grinned.

"What?"

"You don't have to do that. She's a champion belcher all on her own." He stopped patting her, and moments later, she looked up at him with those big, hazel eyes, and she burped. Then she smiled.

"Geez, kid, you could put my big brother to shame."

"Here. Give me my kid," Carol murmured, smiling as Daryl hoisted the baby from his lap to Carol's arms. "Hi, baby." Sophia rested her head against Carol's chest, and Carol gently rocked her back and forth. "Thank you, Daryl. If you hadn't come along…" She took a deep breath and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "Thank you for being there and for taking care of us…of her." Daryl said nothing. He just gave her a little nod.

"You hungry?"

Carol felt her stomach cramp. She hadn't eaten much in the last couple of days, and she was starving.

"I could eat," she offered.

"They got all kinds of canned shit downstairs. I'll find somethin'. You need me to take her?"

"No, we're ok here," Carol offered. "But…thank you." Daryl nodded then, and he cleared his throat before leaving the room.

He made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen. He turned on the stove, and within moments, a familiar scent like hot dust on an electric heater filled his nose. He used a damp cloth to wipe off the burner before putting a pan on top and opening a can of chicken and dumplings.

He'd spent the entire day taking care of this kid and keeping an eye on her mother, and he was weary. He'd never really had to take care of anyone before, unless he counted himself or occasionally his older brother when he was fucked up on drugs. Merle. He could almost hear Merle laughing at him, making some joke about him being soft or something.

He could still hear the gunshot. He could still see the blood on Merle's lips, the defeat and fear in his eyes.

He shook his head, stirring the food in the pan. When it was steaming and hot, he divided it into two bowls and carried them up the stairs to the big bedroom to the right.

Carol sat up a little, shifting the sleeping back to lay on the bed next to her.

"Thank you," she said softly, accepting the bowl and blowing over the top of the first bite. She chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," she grinned. "It's just been a while since I've had to cool off my food. The last hot meal I had was…" She shook her head and took a bite, savoring the warmth and the taste and the way it hit her stomach when she swallowed it. "It's good." Daryl said nothing. He tucked into his own dinner, eating his much faster than she did, and when he was finished, he put his bowl aside and moved to look out the window.

"Snow's lettin' up. Looks like the worst is over. Might be a few days before we can dig ourselves out."

"You saw the roads were plowed, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "Noticed that. Guess there's at least one person still alive out there."

"You ever see him?"

"Nah," he muttered. "Probably just passin' through, diggin' his own self out. But we're probably stuck for a while."

"So, what's your plan?" Carol asked softly. She figured if they were going to be holed up together, they might as well make use of their time. It'd been a long while since she'd had a decent conversation with somebody. Daryl didn't seem to be much of a talker, but at least he was somebody.

"Ain't got one."

"No? So you're just going the same direction I am for no reason?"

"Ain't followin' you if that's what you're gettin' at," he muttered flatly.

"No, I wasn't…that's not what I…" She sighed. "I figured that if we head east toward the coast, toward D.C. maybe there's something there. Maybe there are more survivors. Maybe there's people who were lucky. Like us."

"Lucky or immune?"

"You think?" Carol asked quietly. Daryl shrugged. She chewed her bottom lip. "You have a brother?"

"Did," he murmured, gathering up a bit of dumpling gravy onto his thumb before licking it off. "You got a husband?"

"Did."

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be. He wasn't a…" She shook her head and took a deep breath. "He was a bad man." Daryl eyed her for a moment.

"My brother wasn't the best neither. Real asshole most of the time. Still miss him though."

"Well," Carol said quietly, "I don't miss Ed. I'm glad I got away. I just wish I knew if he was really gone." Her voice was hard, cold, but when he looked up at her, he saw the pain in her eyes, the memories that she was running from. "Is that bad? I mean, wishing somebody was dead…it's a sin, right?"

"Maybe. He deserve it?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "He deserves it. Deserved it. I don't know." She put her bowl aside. "Your brother?"

"Got sick. Finished the job himself. Wouldn't let me get close. But I was there. I saw him coughin' up blood." He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Carol murmured. Daryl nodded then, and he stood up.

"You want more?"

"No, I'm fine for now. Thank you." Daryl took her bowl and his and left the room. Carol sighed softly and gently placed her hand upon her sleeping baby's stomach. "We were lucky today, Soph. We were." She closed her eyes and moaned softly as the pain in her head grew a little more intense. "Ok. Mama's gonna find something for this headache." She threw back the covers and started to swing her legs over the side of the bed when she caught a glimpse of her swollen ankle. She winced in pain as she flexed her toes.

She managed to get herself standing and took a couple of steps. It wasn't broken, but it was definitely sprained. She hobbled over to the closest door, finding a small bathroom. She flicked on the light and started rummaging through the cabinet, finding some aspirin. She checked the date on it before swallowing down two, nearly gagging at the taste. She found a bottle of water on her night stand and drank half of it down before sitting back down on the bed and pulling Sophia into her lap. She lay the baby against her lap, cradling her head upon her knees, and she smiled down at her little girl. Her heart swelled with joy that they'd made it this far, that someone had been watching over them, that they'd been found in all that snow.

She shuddered to think of what could have happened if Daryl hadn't come along, if he'd kept going. He could have. He didn't owe her anything. In fact, if anything, she felt she owed him. She was the one who'd been looting his truck. He was the one who came along and changed her flat tire. He was the one who'd come along and pulled her out of the snow and saved both her life and her daughter's life. She wasn't certain how she'd ever be able to repay him, and he didn't seem like the kind of guy who went out of his way to ask for reciprocation for things like that. In fact, he didn't seem to wear a hero's skin. He seemed to just _be_.

She didn't know what to make of him, how to read him. But he'd kept his distance, traveling almost parallel to her, keeping out of her space, keeping miles between them. Yet, here he was, taking care of her, taking care of her kid, and he could have easily kept on driving.

Sophia stirred in her sleep, and Carol pulled her close, kissing the top of her bald little head.

"It's ok, sweetheart," Carol whispered. "You're safe."

She stood, hobbling out into the hall and into the next room to find the nursery exactly as Daryl had described it. It was a relief to see, but a part of her grieved for the family, grieved for the baby that no longer slept in that bed. Chances were that he was gone, that he'd been a tiny victim to the horrible plague that had fallen upon the earth.

And that was the thought that stuck with her as she put Sophia down in the crib. Was it the entire earth? Was it just this country? Was it just this state? What if this was just some big cosmic joke, and she'd been driving through the back roads just assuming the world was gone? What if she was going crazy. What if she _was_ crazy, locked away in her own mind where Ed couldn't hurt her anymore?

"What're you doin' up? You gotta rest." Carol turned to see him standing in the doorway of the nursery.

"I'm not some wilting flower. I'm fine."

"You can say you're fine all ya want, but I saw the shape you was in when I found ya. You gotta rest."

"What I need to do is shower," Carol insisted. She eyed him. "And you look like you could use one, too. The hot water work around here?"

"Give it a shot," he offered, turning to walk away again. She frowned and tucked a blanket around the baby before retreating to the bedroom. She looked through the drawers, finding a pair of jeans her size and an oversized sweater. She even found some undergarments that looked like they'd never been worn. She pushed the idea of wearing someone else's clothes to the back of her mind. Her own clothes were threadbare at best, and this was about keeping warm. It was about survival. So, she gathered everything up in her arms and locked herself in the small bathroom.

To her delight, the water was warm. It wasn't hot like she liked, but it was warm enough, and the second the water hit her bare skin, she felt her knees go weak at the wonderful sensation.

She took her time, using some strawberry scented shampoo and running her fingers through her curls, not even caring that it would probably take half the night to untangle her long locks since there seemed to be no conditioner whatsoever in the place. Still, it was worth every luxurious moment.

She winced when her fingers brushed over the knot on the back of her head where she'd fallen. The second the pain pulsed through her head, her stomach lurched, and she thought she might faint or throw up. But she held it together and let the water splash down on her face.

She finished washing and quickly toweled off and dressed, saving a pair of warm, Christmas-patterned socks for last. The little Christmas trees were ridiculous, but they made her smile, and she wiggled her toes as she slipped on a pair of barely worn ankle boots, good for hiking. Long lasting.

When she entered the nursery again, Sophia was awake and sitting up, holding onto a stuffed bunny she'd found in the corner of the crib.

"Hi, sweet girl," Carol beamed, picking up her baby and giving her a kiss. "What did you find? A bunny?" Sophia babbled as Carol carried her back to the bedroom. She put the baby down on the bed and moved to sit at the vanity mirror, brushing out her long, tangled locks, frowning as they gave her trouble as usual. "Mama's gonna have to do something about all this hair. Hmm."

She settled for pulling her the dark auburn curls up and out of her face, and by the time she was finished, she could hear him shuffling about in the bathroom. She heard the water running, and she moved back to the bed to lay down. She closed her eyes and put her hand son Sophia's back as the baby sat there playing and babbling away. She must have dozed off for a bit, because the next thing she knew, Daryl was draping a blanket over her and taking Sophia into his arms.

"Hey…" Her voice came out groggy and filled with sleep.

"S'alright. Just puttin' her in the crib. You need 'ta rest."

"I'm ok…"

"Yeah, well, you still gotta rest. Generator's about to go out. Gonna build a fire for ya."

"You don't have to…" Her eyes were shut now, and she was having a hard time keeping conscious.

"Get some rest." Those were the last words she heard him utter before sleep pulled her under once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Carol was sore as hell when she woke the next morning, but her head felt better. In fact, she was feeling good enough to get Sophia up and give her a good, warm sink bath before rifling through the baby clothes and coming out with green and yellow footie pajamas that looked warm enough for such a chilly winter day.

Sophia babbled as Carol put a fresh diaper on her and buttoned up the clothes, smiling as she looked down at her rosy cheeked girl. She carried her down the stairs and held her on her hip as she expertly made a bottle. She was used to this. She had been used to doing so much with one hand since she'd brought Sophia home from the hospital. And it wasn't long before she was settling down to feed Sophia her morning bottle.

The house was quiet, and the windows rattled against the wind. The snow had stopped, thankfully, but she could hear the shutters banging along the side of the house. She ventured a quick guess that the roads were likely drifting, which meant that it would probably take a hell of a miracle to get them back out on the road by next week.

By the time Sophia had a belly full of formula and was drifting off to sleep in her mama's arms, Carol was awake enough to start putting together some sort of breakfast.

She took the baby upstairs, putting her down in the crib before carefully making her way back to the kitchen downstairs. The first thing she found in one of the boxes Daryl had put together was a can of coffee.

She moaned softly the second she pulled the tin lid back and let the aroma of still-fresh coffee grounds fill her soul.

"Oh, thank you God," she murmured. At this point, she was beginning to believe in miracles, considering the generator hadn't crapped out just yet. Maybe Daryl had found some more fuel. Oh well. Who was she to question the gift of pure, caffeinated coffee?

She quickly poured a couple of bottles of water into the back of the coffee maker, and she let it brew while she managed to put together something like a breakfast using powdered eggs and real bacon bits. She was a little wary of the bacon bits, but they were in a vacuum-tight package and never opened, and the expiration was still a year away.

By the time the back door opened, and clumps of snow melted off of his boots and the cuffs of his pants and onto the black and white checkered linoleum, Carol had two steaming platefuls dished out.

"You cooked?" he asked, chucking a worn pair of gloves onto the countertop. He looked from her to the plates of food and then back at her.

"Don't look so surprised. I used to cook every morning. It's been a long time since I've had a kitchen like this to cook in. Or someone to cook for that didn't survive on a mostly liquid diet." She smiled a little, and Daryl's eyes narrowed. She was limping a little, but her color was better than it had been last night, and she seemed to be getting around just fine on her own. "You better sit before your eggs get cold."

"Eggs?" he asked, sniffing the air and remembering the greasy, buttery, stomach growl-inducing aromas that used to fill the Dixon house hallways when he was just a kid, back when things were ok, back before he could remember things being too bad.

"Powdered. Just add a little water, and viola! Oh, and we have coffee." She saw him perk up a little at the mention of a distant taste memory. She served out two steaming cups and then sat down to a comfortable silence that she wasn't used to. She glanced at him between bites, watching the way his gaze dragged away from her face when she looked at him. He focused entirely too much on the plate in front of him, and the tops of his ears burned red.

"More?" she asked, after he scraped the last bit of egg off of his plate.

"You first," he offered.

"There's plenty," Carol offered. She grabbed the skillet off the stove and came over to serve more out on his plate before piling the last bit onto her own. He ate quickly, and her brows knit in concern. "You must've been hungry." He shrugged. "How is it out there?"

"Driftin'. But somebody plowed through last night. We should be able to get out."

"You hear anyone last night?"

"Nah," Daryl muttered, glancing up at her. "Don't think they know we're around."

"Well, they had to have seen our cars out on the road."

"They did. Tried to get into 'em, too. Didn't try too hard, 'cause the windows ain't busted. Probably some kids or somethin'."

"Oh," Carol murmured, plopping a forkful of egg into her mouth. It wasn't bad. She certainly preferred the real thing, but this would do. It was warm and filling, and by the time she emptied her plate, she felt fuller than she had in a long time.

"How's yer head?" His voice broke the silence, and she flinched.

"Not too bad. I've had worse." She shrugged a little and frowned. "Daryl, I want to thank you for what you did for me. For my daughter."

"It's nothin'.'  
"It's not nothin'. It's something. If you hadn't come along, we'd probably both be dead. But you did come along, and now my daughter has a chance. So, thank you." She stood and moved to grab the empty plates. She turned on the faucet and started a sink of water for washing.

"What're you doin'?"

"Dishes," she offered.

"Why?" He stared at her, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

"It's what we do. We live. We move on. The world didn't end, Daryl. The people, maybe. But…we're not dead." Daryl sat there for a moment before he pushed the chair back, cringing at the sound of aluminum against linoleum. And then he was next to her with a towel in his hand, and she smiled a little when he took a dripping plate from her hand. "Good. I hate to dry."

The worked in silence until their breakfast dishes were clean, and by that time, Sophia was fussing upstairs.

"We should get outta here 'fore the roads drift shut again," Daryl said quietly. "You headin' east?"

"Yeah. Still." The corner of her mouth twitched a little. "Maybe cut a little bit southward if the weather's better."

"Hmm," Daryl grunted, taking another sip of hot coffee. "I'll get yer Jeep ready."

"Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"We're traveling in the same direction. Why don't we just travel together. Maybe everybody's gone, but we're not. We still need people. That hasn't changed, has it?" Daryl eyed her.

"You want me to come with you?"

"We've been going the same direction for months, separately. I think it works better if we have somebody. You know. Companionship. Someone to talk to." She shrugged her shoulders. "I was running away from a broken marriage. An abusive husband. He's long gone now. And you look like you're running away from everything." She shrugged. "You saved my life. You saved my daughter's life. The last I can do is pay you back with a few hot meals." Daryl snorted at that.

"So my incentive for keepin' you around is a full belly?"

"Hey, I can work magic with spices," she offered with a little grin, completely unaware of where that little bit of flirting came from. "And I'm good with a map. Maybe we can find someplace. Other people, you know? We survived. Someone else had to have survived, too." She shrugged again. "I don't know. It's just a thought." The baby continued crying upstairs, and Carol left Daryl to his thoughts and went to tend to her daughter.

...

Daryl leaned against the side of his truck with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked up at the old farmhouse, white paint peeling from years of neglect. He'd always wanted something like this, some place out in the middle of nowhere, someplace where he could be alone, where nobody could bother him. He could just have peace.

But the longer he looked at the house and listened to the lonely wind whistling through the trees, the more he thought about breakfast that morning, her smiling at him as they did dishes together, as if somehow he'd been transplanted from his old world into some new world where there were still people and things hadn't turned completely to shit. It had been nice. And he'd never been the kind of man that needed someone around constantly.

But he'd gravitated around her, kept close since he'd first met her when she'd tried looting out of his truck. There was sincerity in her eyes, a need to keep close to someone despite having lived a life of being beaten down to the mud. Her husband had been a bad man. Her words. She'd been running with a baby. Abusive, maybe. She didn't seem to be afraid of him, which was a relief and maybe a bit of a shock. When he'd been around Merle, woman had tended to give him a wide berth, likely mentally comparing him to the son of a bitch that he'd spent years fighting with just to give him something to think about other than the scars his daddy had put on his skin.

And she sure as hell wasn't in any shape to be traveling alone. With her busted up ankle and a baby, she certainly wouldn't have an advantage should anything threatening come along.

So, he'd made a choice, and as much as he could hear Merle guffawing like an idiot and teasing him for being some whipped little pussy boy, he wasn't going to be the asshole that just left an injured woman and her baby to fend for themselves.

He was certain Carol was capable of taking care of herself and the kid, but considering she'd come close to freezing to death, he didn't quite like the idea of leaving her alone until she was fully healed. Maybe not even then. She was right, after all. People still needed people, even if there weren't very many around.

When Carol stepped out of the house with the baby all wrapped up, she paused before stepping off the porch, eyeing him as he leaned against his truck puffing on a cigarette. She noticed the back of the Jeep looked a lot fuller.

When she made it over to the Jeep and opened one of the back doors to put Sophia in her car seat, she noticed a few things that weren't hers. A couple of duffel bags, a couple of shotguns lying across the floorboard of the truck. She eyed Daryl for a moment, and he just looked right back at her.

"You gonna stand there all day, or are we gonna get the hell outta here?"


End file.
